


I'll Be Right Beside You

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alt. pop music, Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Slow Dancing, childhood angst, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby and Happy have a heart to heart after a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Right Beside You

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Quick drabble for Quintis to Beside You by Marianas Trench.

“Never expected you to be into this kind of music,” says Happy as she walks out of the bathroom. Toby looks up from his book to see Happy flopping next to him on the bed. “I figured you were an 80’s or nothing kind of guy.”

Toby pushes at her leg with his foot, creasing the page and setting the book on the bedside table. “Hey, I have an eclectic and diverse taste in music.”

She lifts her head off the comforter to give him the most skeptical look possible. “Toby, you listen to Kajagoogoo.”

He considers it. “You’ve got me there.”

She gets comfortable, spreading out on the bed, which includes throwing a leg and an arm on top of Toby. She sighs. “You know what’s nice?”

“What?”

“Not standing,” she mumbles. “And not rappelling down a forty foot building.”

Her hair is still damp from the shower when Toby brushes it out of her face. “You did good,” Toby says. “How do you even know how to do that stuff?”

Happy shrugs. “When you’re on your own as long as I was, you learn a lot of things.” Her expression changes suddenly and she turns to her side, curling up on herself. She pushes her hair out of her face again, and Toby catches her hand when he sees it shaking just the tiniest bit.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Toby asks. He searches her face for some sort of hint, some reason behind this sudden shift in tone.

Happy shrugs and tries to turn away, but Toby just moves so he’s on the other side of the bed, eye to eye with her. “No running,” he says, “talk to me.”

She presses her lips together then reaches for him, and when she curls against his chest that’s when he knows something’s not right.

She’s silent for a few minutes, and Toby holds her as she breathes. Sometimes this is as far as they get – quiet moments where Toby remembers his lesson and doesn’t talk. Happy comes out of it before too long, but something changes with them after each time.

Sometimes they talk, and Toby learns more about how Happy became the superhero he fell in love with. That happens less frequently.

She shifts a little and Toby leans back to see her face, giving her the chance to speak first. She takes a deep breath to steady herself. “When I was ten,” Happy says, “my foster family used to like locking me in my room. I learned how to get out the window by tying things together, created a pulley system, and I’d rappel down the apartment wall,” she shrugs. “You know, normal fourth grade things.”

“Is this the couple who,” he swallows, “um, what you told me about?”

Happy nods, avoiding his eyes. “It was like I was Harry Potter in there,” she says, testing out this smile that looks so forced it could be painful. “When they finally found out I was sneaking out to go to the playground across the street, they locked the windows and the doors. I was lucky I liked to read – books were all they left in there.” Her eyes flicker up to his, and he can tell she’s fighting he instincts in order to keep talking, to let it out. She’s kept this hidden for so long that Toby hardly knows how she’s survived. But she did. God, she did. “Other than school, I didn’t leave the room.”

“And they forgot to feed you,” Toby grumbles, looking away from her for a just a moment. No matter what happened at home, no matter how painful it was to hear his mother yell, he had every chance to leave the house and do what he wanted. There was always food for him, and sometimes his mother was cognizant enough of the moment to tell him she loved him. His father dressed his wounds and dried his tears. Toby’s childhood was difficult, but Happy – Happy was abandoned.

Happy shrugs. “Not that often,” she says, always trying to lessen the blow, like she doesn’t want to hurt him with her memories, “but just – enough that I remember.”

“Even once is too much,” Toby insists, kissing her forehead.

The music changes from the upbeat pop songs to the slower tone of a ballad.

Happy smiles all of a sudden, something that grows slowly and reaches her eyes. “Remember that time I asked you to slow dance in a parking lot?” she asks. Her expression is almost teasing, and Toby feels relief that she’s not stuck in the miserable memory any longer.

Toby nods. “Yes, and it was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It was a big moment,” she clarifies. “Not adorable.”

“Right,” Toby agrees. “Shields and all.”

Her face fades into a pensive, far away expression. “And you still haven’t run away,” she says, as if to someone else. She looks at him. “All my baggage, and you’re still here.”

Toby nods. “In case you missed it, I’ve got my own brand of baggage and you haven’t bailed on me yet. There’s nothing you can throw at me that I can’t take.”

Happy stares at him. “Oh, god,” she says. “You mean that.”

He nods, sitting up. “In fact,” he says, “get up. We’re slow dancing again.”

Happy rolls her eyes, but her expression shifts to a smile when he pulls her to standing.

The lyrics ring steady with the moment, words about holding each other up and staying right beside you when it gets too much. Happy’s head rests against Toby’s chest again, and Toby doesn’t have words for the way it feels to have her this close.

“Did you plan this?” Happy asks. “The music? This seems too coincidental.”

“You’re the one who brought up the past,” Toby says, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m just,” he pauses, “working the moment.”

Happy drops his hands to wrap her arms around his waist. “You always do,” she says quietly, but after a beat she pulls back to stand on her tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips. It’s been only a few weeks, but Toby’s learning to translate these moments. These kisses are a thank you, an I-care without words, and Toby tries to say the same and more back.

The song ends before too long, the beat quickening to a higher energy, but Happy doesn’t let go. So Toby doesn’t either.


End file.
